The Blind Swordsman Novels & Stories

The green misty veil that covered old man Jenkins’ body further corroded the sword and it broke just milliseconds after impact. The swordsman was infuriated. His beloved sword! It was gone just like that? His smile turned to a scowl. He waved his hand and a new sword appeared. Old man Jenkins paused, processing his thoughts at the speed of a supercomputer. He stared at the sword, trying to find if anything was special about it, but no, it only seemed like a regular claymore, which made Old man Jenkins instantly feel on edge. He looked at the swordsman whose smiling face had darkened into a sinister scowl. He knew he had to be cautious. After all, why would the swordsman angrily materialize a

sneered the swordsman, driving his blade mercilessly into the man’s back, piercing through to his belly. “My husband!” screamed the woman in anguish, clutching her daughter tightly as tears streamed down her face. The little girl’s wailing soon joined her mother’s cries, filling the night with sorrow. “Finish them all! I must return to Leader Huang,” the swordsman declared coldly, yanking his blade free from the lifeless body at his feet. The man wearing a black headband, emblazoned with two downward-curving golden lines, burst forward with lightning speed toward the circle of swordsmen who were besieging a lone warrior of the Sacred Dragon Sect.

The hooves of our horses awaken some of the people of my pack, causing them to peek out their windows and doors to see what the commotion is about. Before long, we reach the courtyard of the palace and begin to dismount. After a quick debriefing, I release the men to go home to get some rest. Turning, I focus on the woman at my side and find myself floored. Her hood has fallen back to reveal raven hair, the light of dawn causes rainbows to shimmer in the long strands. Her beauty takes my breath away, but that isn’t what truly floors me. Her eyes, her eyes are a dull shadow violet. She’s blind.

Lucian briefly answered, withholding some information. "Why is he not healing? I need to fully know what happened to him do I can know which treatment I'd give him" Chris instructed sternly. Lucian hesitated for a while, thinking whether to tell him or not. Then he looked at the two nurses who were quick to get the memo and they left. "What was he stabbed with?" Chris pried further. "An enchanted silver dagger" Lucian divulged, earning a gasp from Chris. "That's bad, really bad." Chris chanted, his face showing his worry.

He wasn't with any sword so injuring him would be more easier, his men came for me and I clicked my sword with theirs and kicked them hard to get the fuck out of my way. The blind prince was just there not even affected that he's in the midst of a battle and any slash could render him dead. I threw a punch on his face and he seethed, returning it to me but I dodged. I swerved swiftly to his back in speed and slashed his back with a sword and smirked when I finally saw his blood gushing out. Not even a single emotion was plastered on his pretty face. In a swift mode he got a hold on a sword and clashed it with mine as we both danced around and clicked it fiercely in anger.

"We don't need to go to Lin's house. Let's go to my place so I can change. This is a minor wound. I can handle it myself." Ludriev took her spirit sword she had previously put on the side of the arena, and followed him without anymore words. Spirit sword was forged in a special method for those who reached a certain level in swordsmanship. The sword was unique and believed to be sacred, as it had its own spirit, which, if it didn't feel a strong connection with the wielder, they wouldn't be able to use it. Therefore, usually a sword spirit only had one owner and vice versa.

"So, I have a theory that something malicious happened inside our school that made the blind man that angry... to the point he was ghosting the school." My head suddenly ached, feeling the same spinning sensation before. I saw the blind man lying down the library as I have dreamed of. There was only him who's left inside. There was a gun. Probably mom's gun she left. The blind man's right hand hardly tried to reach the gun. A couple of trials and attempts made, until he successfully reached the gun and held it tight. He was bathing in his own blood, as he tried picking up a book placed on the floor. It was old and big. He tried to sit, hardly moving because of his blood lost.

The Phantom Blade was too light for something designed to end a life. It sat in Damian’s palm, a sliver of polished titanium that seemed to pull the nursery’s amber light into its edge. Damian didn’t look like a man whose estate was currently being dismantled by orbital strikes. He looked like a man who had finally solved a tedious riddle. He rotated the needle between his thumb and forefinger, his movements slow, deliberate, and terrifyingly steady. "The lion’s head engraving," he murmured.