Boiling Beast Bloodline
Chapter 854 - 192: Sword Chant Ultimate Skill_3

Chapter 854: Chapter 192: Sword Chant Ultimate Skill_3

Recently, Mage Liu’s severed arm had grown significantly, resulting in one arm longer than the other, giving him a rather odd appearance. His terrifying nostrils also began to close up a bit, and his sharp facial contours were becoming clearer. His wildness was unchanged, but bizarrely, he also seemed to carry a certain scholarly charm unique to elven men—a charm not easily noticed without paying close attention. One might wonder if his foreign elf identity was causing mischief.

Liu Zhenhan took out his cherished copy of the Moore Sword Chant Atlas, scratching his head as he studied it closely, showering his shoulders with a large amount of dandruff.

It turned out the boss was preparing to learn Sword Chanting. Yitiaobar nearly passed out laughing, and the surrounding militiamen clearly saw the boss’s intention, each of them covertly turning their heads to stifle their chuckles.

As for the Feilengcui Lord’s talents, whether in the field of battle songs or magic, he was utterly unqualified—a dud. He loathed meditation and despised the tediousness of spell incantations. His studies in battle songs were halted by the "Curse of Blood Sacrifice," and naturally, he had no talent for the more profound magic. Ever since Liu Zhenhan started to become a Mage, both Fairy Dragons and Master Otigha once had a keen interest in helping the Lord to practice powerful Fire magic. However, the Lord truly was unteachable; he couldn’t even manage the basic meditation required to gather Elemental Power of Fire.

According to the specialized terminology of the Magic World, the Feilengcui Lord was definitely not Mage material. Even the shortcut of using Blood Magic to draw power couldn’t change this fact, even though it had propelled him to the pinnacle of Saint Chiao.

Moore Sword Chanting is a dual combat profession that uses Blood Magic Power to control the sword, allowing it to change its trajectory freely in the air. Anyone facing a sword that flips and stabs unpredictably from below the ribs or from behind would find it exceedingly troublesome. It could be said that the aptitude required for every Sword Chanter is almost equivalent to that of an apprentice Mage, and they must also possess considerable martial skill. Only a race like the Elves, known for mass-producing Mages, could afford such luxuries.

In every aspect, the Feilengcui Lord seemed to embody Beamon, seemingly ill-fitted for the material, which made everyone unable to contain their laughter.

If creating a Blood Elf Sword Chanter were so easy, they might as well be called Mudsmiths.

Chomping on a large cigar, Liu Zhenhan squinted at the Sword Chant Atlas and gesticulated for a while before letting out a strange chuckle.

"Learned Sword Chanting?" Yitiaobar slapped the boss’s shoulder in a carefree manner and unapologetically snatched the cigar, rubbed it on his clothes, and put it in his own mouth.

"Learned it," Liu Zhenhan nodded, pulling out a piece of fresh bamboo and chewing it noisily.

Boisterous laughter erupted from all around. Yitiaobar almost spurted out the cigar in a chuckle. A parrot flew by carrying Guoguo on its back, and Guoguo pouted at Liu Zhenhan, continuously scratching her cheeks with her little claws, making a "aren’t you embarrassed" gesture.

"Let me show you!" Liu Zhenhan picked up a ram’s horn hammer from the ground. This kind of hammer, with its hooked teeth at the front, was perfect for chiseling open heavy armor and was entirely made of refined iron, weighing at least thirty pounds.

All the militiamen saw that the boss wasn’t joking and were a bit stunned, staring intently at their boss.

Liu Zhenhan felt the weight of the hammer in his hand, then tossed it away and kicked a large basket of heavy weapons over to his side.

"See the target over there?" Liu Zhenhan pointed at a red earth spire in the distance for Yitiaobar to see.

"One hundred yards," Yitiaobar nodded dubiously, "Don’t tell me your Sword Chant has that kind of range! A typical chanter’s range is around forty or fifty yards at best, can you really reach one hundred yards?"

"Only a hundred yards. Remember, I am Saint Chiao!"

"Let’s start." Moore didn’t bother with more words and simply gestured for the other to proceed with a "please" motion.

Saint Chiao is indeed Saint Chiao. Liu was not chanting spells but merely shaped his hand into a claw and yanked, whereupon a Viking greatsword from the bamboo basket was attracted into a floating position. The blood elemental power coursing around it wrapped the entire sword in a red aura as if encased in an energy barrier.

"Witness Beamon’s first Sword Chant in action!" Liu roared, and with a casual wave, the Viking greatsword floating a foot above the ground turned into a bundle of cold light, shooting toward a distant red clay spire like a powerful crossbow. Liu’s right hand hovered above the basket at his side, and as he waved, various weapons like armor-piercing hammers, ram’s horn maces, greatswords, and battle axes swung in huge arcs, smashing toward the red clay spire. Many missed by a wide margin, but some hit their mark, and in the end, even the bamboo basket got wrapped in a blood-colored aura and was thrown over.

The red clay spire was splattered with dust, and there was a cacophony of banging noises. Aside from a few battle axes that hit their target, the rest missed horribly.

"Is this what you call Sword Chant?" Moore, trying not to laugh or cry, said to the Overlord: "You’ve learned nothing but the very basic, the very beginner’s move to start with! Using Blood Magic to throw these weapons is such a waste. You might as well swing with your arms—you’d be more accurate and powerful."

"Nonsense! I don’t need to pick them up by hand; I just swing, and within ten yards, I can infuse anything with magic and lock on to it. The tedious process only took the wise and valiant Overlord here less than half an hour to master!" Liu laughed wildly. "Now, I am not only a Sword Chant. I’m also a Hammer Chant! Axe Chant! Knife Chant! Basket Chant!"

"Rubbish! All rubbish!" said Moore, as if he were about to faint from anemia, staggering almost to the point of falling: "I’ve never seen someone as shameless as you! Have you forgotten Moore’s Sword Chant and our battle in Difeng Valley? What’s Sword Chant? It’s turning the Calyx Longsword into an art form by a swordsman! Their attack paths are so unpredictable! They fly over your head, then with a single flip, they’re stabbing at your waist! When have you ever seen a Sword Chant throw their sword around without care like throwing a javelin? Do you know the Calyx Longswords used in Blood Chants are specially made, with a strict forging process? Otherwise, could they be so precise? What is Blood Magic? You have the nerve to bring it up! If you don’t attach Magic to the sword, how are you going to make the wound on others bleed more?"

"You’re just a novice who’s only learned how to lift a sword from the ground! As for the sword moves with unpredictable attack paths, you’re still miles away from learning them, not to mention you also need to learn how to control continuation of force in mid-air! Do you think you’re a Sword Chant just because you can pull a sword up from the ground? You’re nothing more than a farmer holding a long spear, still a complete noob at heart!" Moore shook his head at Liu.

Moore had lived for five thousand years and had never seen such a shameless warrior until today.

"Damn it!" Liu became angry: "What do you think? It’s not that easy! Controlling the longsword to flip and fly in the air? How long did I review the Sword Chant manual? To learn so quickly, who do you think I am? I’ll have you know, I can’t make the weapons stay airborne; I can only smash them out in one shot. As for whether they turn corners, I can’t be responsible for that!"

"It’s the Mana of Saint Chiao, I have to admire you. You can even shoot out a heavy broadaxe and send it flying so far," Moore commented mockingly: "Tsk tsk... ’Axe Chant’!"

"A hundred yards is nothing, I didn’t even use all my Magic Power just now, just a little bit," boasted Liu, mischievously casting a spell that held Moore aloft and then forcefully flicked him out.

"Trifling trick." Moore’s magic resistance was not to be taken lightly; he simply floated in the air.

"It’s basically javelin throwing," laughed Liu. "I’m pretty satisfied. I couldn’t possibly learn the other moves; even the starting sword is this difficult, and I have no interest in going further. Smashing others should be enough."

"No ambition!" Moore wore a look of hating that iron could not become steel.

"This is pretty good. From now on, I won’t need to bend down to pick up a weapon. Just smash it out, and it’s the same effect, right?" Liu joked. "I feel the axe suits me well, probably because it’s heavy. Surely, hitting a grand Saint Chiao must not feel good!"

"Saint Chiao Axe Chant!" Liu said proudly.