I can return to the age of mysterious
Chapter 517 - 517 286 No More Ghosts with Knives in the World

Chapter 517: 286 No More Ghosts with Knives in the World (4100)_2 Chapter 517: 286 No More Ghosts with Knives in the World (4100)_2 This was not any manifestation of noble sentiments, Garoro was not that type of person. It was just the characteristic of a Secret Martial Artist. He knew Feng Liusi would understand his meaning at this moment.

Clearly, Blood Fist really wanted to experience the Three Blade Style alone, Garoro figured he might as well allow him to fulfill his wish.

Boom…

The momentum caused by the frenzy caused a reversal in the airflow over the ruins, sweeping and rippling like a fierce tornado. The earth rumbled, and the fog of dust spiraled and rolled on.

In the center of the vortex, Garoro sheathed his three blades. Even though he had done nothing, around him numerous cracks appeared in the ground, as if invisible blades had slashed the earth, cutting it into a grid-like pattern.

Corresponding with the blue sky.

Garoro slightly tilted up his head, closing his eyes. His right arm swiftly moved across his waist, a purple light spinning like a dragon.

“One Sword Style…”

Draw again!

A dazzling blue sheen corresponding with the sky’s color.

“Two Sword Style…”

Draw again!

A blade’s brilliance passed by, carrying a faint redness.

The slashing sword, the stabbing sword, the trembling sword.

Purple, blue, red.

Garoro suddenly opened his eye, the blinding light within his pupil nearly making it impossible to look directly at him, as he roared softly.

“Three Blade Style, Prism World!!!”

His voice rumbled, as if a god from the clouds was passing judgment.

Hum, hum, hum, hum, hum, hum!

Riot, tremble, resonate. The alloy bodies of the three War Blades shivered at an unprecedented frequency, as if the blades were about to shatter. Garoro leapt up, wielding the three blades simultaneously.

In an instant, the surrounding air rapidly twisted and expanded.

The blue, purple, and red brilliance seemed to burst from an alternate space, becoming a series of rainbow waterfalls cascading around. The area within a tens-of-meters radius transformed into a world of blades, carrying the gleam of star sand. It looked like vibrant butterflies flapping their wings, sprinkling a toxic powder.

Yet, in reality, every fluttering butterfly was composed of numerous scattered blades. The accumulation of Garoro’s sword techniques and skills over the past fifty odd years were all contained within, combining various methods and power displays into a dangerous and complex domain.

Prism World! Truly deserving of the title ‘World’.

In his trance, Feng Liusi seemed to see the old man from the Main Island, whose aura shrouded the heavens, and similar to the Saint Fist. Garoro’s Prism World had obtained that aura within an instant!

In that moment, fear crept up from the bottom of his heart.

“Hehehe… Hahahaha…”

The sinister laughter from Feng Liusi’s throat turned into a mad, hearty laugh. He was too happy, with the happiness of a lunatic.

In Death Valley, why would Feng Liusi unreservedly pass on the Red Vulture Fist of the Southern Dipper, even without the name of master and disciple? The exchange of benefits was one part, the continuation of inheritance was also one reason. But deep down, there was another reason.

Because Casio was like him, even better than him!

Concealed beneath the human exterior was extreme insanity, the obsessive pursuit of the Secret Martial Arts. The thrill they enjoyed was brought on by the shiver of fear towards the unknown, curiosity, and excitement.

This was Feng Liusi’s ultimate pursuit!

Facing this sword, he felt fear, and even more so, excitement.

As if every cell in his body was revitalized.

So, Feng Liusi laughed wildly, without hesitation, he grounded himself and initiated Yunquan Fist. Blood-red steam roared from his arms and back, swirling into a whirlpool. As the threatening fluid condensed, it seemed as though an invisible pair of hands were kneading it. Ultimately, taking the form of a fire-red vulture, its flapping wings resembled both flames and scales.

In the center of the vortex, Feng Liusi’s eyes cornered with blood vessels, dense and connected, like a spreading spider web.

“Liberation…”

He murmured to himself, breaking the shackles on his body. His arms, accompanied by the surge of blood-red waterfall, were raised. With his left hand in front and the right hand at the back, he appeared like a giant Unicorn Fairy. The surging and ferocious red steam was hanging over his head like a veil.

“Southern Dipper Red Vulture Fist, Deathblow Secret Skill, Blood Vulture’s Beak!”

Whistle!!! A bold and fierce bird shrieked with an ear-piercing sound.

Boom!!!

From the thick fog spreading behind Feng Liusi’s body, a giant creature pounced out. It was an extremely big bird’s skull, its beak opened wide, large enough to swallow him completely.

The bird’s head was ferocious, covered in scales, and its eyes were violent. The terrifying beak shimmered with a metallic shine, carrying a bloodred hue!

With a boom, the giant skull swallowed Feng Liusi whole. Carrying him, it crushed the ruins, charging at his opponent like a tank.

From a distance, the world seemed to be divided into two halves.

On the left, the blood mist surged; on the right, prismatic light filled the skies!

Ding!

In that moment, the world fell completely silent. The sounds of battle, the explosions of rocket grenades, the howling gales – it was as if all had been muted, with white light taking over one’s sight.

The backdrop of the world blurred incessantly, like a filter gradually saturating. The azure sky, white fluffy clouds, black-gray ruins, crimson mist, and the three-colored blade, all seemed to meld violently together. Neither the colors nor their unique forms could be distinguished.

Until a certain moment.

The droning noise gradually became clear from the murkiness, as if someone regained consciousness from a stupor, redeveloping the perception of the world.

Boom!

A black tornado, like a straight line, brutally connected the ruins to the high-altitude cloud layer, spreading to an unknown place.

The next second, the tornado collapsed.

The debris that had been swept up into the sky came crashing down.

It seemed like a rainstorm that engulfed everything with pitch-black raindrops.

On the ruins, amidst a large, deep crater, two figures were visible—one kneeling, the other lying down.

Debris fell on his head, and the figure that was half-kneeling stood up.

Turning around, he revealed Feng Liusi’s sharply defined face.

He remained silent, his expression neither gleeful nor sorrowful. The debris falling from the sky disintegrated into powder as it hit his body, shrouded with the percolating ‘Deathfang Power,’ dispersing along with the gusty wind.

In the process, he pulled out a faintly dark feathered robe from his shoulder and coat corner.

It fell to the ground along with warm blood dripping from his fingertips.

Feng Liusi quietly looked at Garoro, who was lying on the ground, devoid of both arms. Next to him were two broken war blades—one purple Decapitation Knife and one blue Stab Knife. A meter away from his right shoulder, the purple substitution knife surprisingly remained intact.

It was obliquely stuck into the ground, with a hand firmly gripping the handle of the knife. For someone who practiced knife skills, they would rather die than let go of their blade.

Garoro had done it.

He lay on the ground like a corpse, his body’s ‘Qi’ unable to suppress the horrific injuries. His body was starting to split in different directions, and blood began to gush out from the seams.

In an instant, the surrounding mud was soaked wet.

Garoro faced upwards, seemingly admiring the torrential black rain with his sole remaining eye.

Heavy footsteps echoed next to him.

Without looking, Garoro already knew who it was, and he remained still. Suddenly, his dry and cracked lips moved, and he asked,

“How was that last blade?”

“Not bad.”

A low voice came from above.

“Not bad?”

“Yes, not bad. So good that it nearly cut open my chest and my heart. Quite good indeed…”

Feng Liusi gently pressed his chest. An exaggerated cut diagonally crossed his upper body, almost cleaving him in two. From the red wound, his white bones and a pulsing heart could be seen—the blade was that close. That last bit of distance.

The blade was a hair’s breadth from slicing open the atrium, shattering his internal organs.

This was the price Feng Liusi paid to witness Garoro’s final attack—an outcome where both almost annihilated each other.

On the ground, after hearing Feng Liusi’s reply, Garoro suddenly burst into laughter, blood constantly overflowing from his mouth and nose.

“Hahaha, good, good. Then it was indeed not bad.”

After a short period of silence, Feng Liusi spoke up,

“You just asked me a question, and I have a question for you as well. Why is your nickname ‘Ghost Knife’?”

Despite the continual coughing and spitting of blood, Garoro still managed to answer, “It’s just a title. Every inheritor, who can comprehend their own ‘Three Blade Style’ secret martial arts, is known as ‘Ghost Knife’ after their death.”

“Cough cough, I can’t be called ‘Ghost Knife’ yet, but I will be soon… Unfortunately, there will be no successors after me.”

“I should have known better, and trained a disciple…dammit.”

As he continued cursing, his voice grew weaker and weaker,

Until it finally dwindled to a whisper.

“After…After my death, there will no longer be a ‘Knife Ghost’ in this world…”