Revive Rome: Wait! Why not make the empress fall in love with me first?
Chapter 272 - 70 Verbal Confrontation

Chapter 272: Chapter 70 Verbal Confrontation

The second duel started quickly, with the Weisbach family sending out Henry to contend.

The opposing side sent out a noble as their competitor, and naturally, the Wolf Family could not take this lightly, deploying Viscount Heinrich himself to enter the fray.

Both men wielded single-handed straight swords, favored in noble duels for their elegant and elongated blades.

From the looks of the fight, both parties seemed to be contesting in terms of sheer strength, reflexes, and swordsmanship skills without employing any extraordinary abilities—perhaps because they were not Transcendents themselves, merely ordinary people who had absorbed extraordinary power.

It was also possible they were deliberately concealing their true strengths, as there was no need for nobles to fight to the death in knightly combat.

The ladies watching from above made similar judgments. However, Aske saw clearly: these two were truly fighting for their lives; it was merely that ordinary people’s combat was at this level.

Lacking strength, with insufficient reflexes and no special abilities, even if they fought with all their might, they could not reach the thrill and danger of the Transcendents’ conflicts.

An unexpected thrust came without warning; Henry quickly tilted his head to dodge, and the blade swiped past his face, leaving a slender cut.

His longsword, however, chopped straight down, pressing down on Heinrich’s longsword. But soon after, Heinrich delivered a knee strike that bent Henry over at the waist in pain, with the blade then propped against his neck.

"You’ve lost," Heinrich said breathlessly, "but I spare you, I spare your life."

Henry spat to the side with venom and glared furiously at him. On Weisbach territory, he certainly did not fear that this Wolf Clan Viscount would dare kill him.

Yet, despite being evenly matched, his own few mistakes prevented him from winning, leaving him with a profound sense of disappointment.

Heinrich sheathed his longsword, and the doctors from the sidelines surged forward, taking Henry to the adjacent infirmary for treatment.

Returning to the top-level box, Heinrich calmly saluted the Duke of Bavaria, who showed no displeasure, merely nodding slightly.

This pretentious old fraud! Heinrich cursed inwardly.

Nonetheless, the Wolf Family had managed to pull back a match. As long as Meyer could defeat his opponent cleanly and decisively, the outcome of this knightly combat would be determined.

For the third bout, Meyer went down to the field early, resting his longsword on the ground.

Aske walked down to the field at a leisurely pace, having removed most of his weapons and carrying only the longsword he kept on his person, calmly facing Meyer.

"When did the Chief of the Richartnal Knights become a position anyone could assume?" Meyer did not rush to engage, instead leading with a taunt, "Have all the other members of the Swordsman’s group lost their hands?"

"No way around it," Aske shrugged, "They were insistent on inviting me, and I told them to find someone more competent. But Nuremberg spoke up, saying Richartnal had already decided, and that I would be the Chief of the Swordsmen."

Meyer, sensing something off about this strange claim, scoffed, "You?"

"If I were still in my teacher’s group of Swordsmen, do you think you would have made it to this position?"

"I heard that before Nuremberg," Aske said slowly, "you were the Chief of the Swordsmen. What happened? Too much pressure to handle?"

"Heh," Meyer let out a scornful chuckle from beneath his mustache, "Had I known someone of your caliber could become Chief, I would have resigned earlier."

"The reason you left was because your swordsmanship couldn’t improve, wasn’t it?" Aske suddenly said.

Meyer was about to reflexively counter, then fell into a strange silence.

Indeed, as a swordsmanship prodigy second to none in the Richartnal Knights, his departure was not for reasons other Swordsmen speculated such as arrogance, or a fallout with his teacher.

It was because his swordsmanship had indeed hit an insurmountable plateau.

Richarter told him he had fallen into a sort of "mental shackles," and at first, he believed his teacher. However, no matter how hard he tried, he was unable to break through that invisible barrier.

Moreover, his Swordsmen juniors, who were initially no match for him, began to rapidly improve after joining the group. Swordsmen who couldn’t withstand a single blow from him just a few months later were exchanging blows evenly with him, and he started to suspect the teacher was deliberately holding back, fearing he’d be surpassed one day.

Thus, Meyer left the team in frustration. After years of solo adventuring and reflecting on a lifetime of learning, he created the "Square Swordsmanship" that encompassed all his insights and even led a Swordsmen team of his own.

Yet, the plateau remained unbroken, like an invisible glass ceiling, still limiting his advancement in the way of the sword.

"Did the teacher tell you about my problem?" Meyer’s voice trembled slightly.

"No, it’s quite obvious," Aske chuckled, "It’s apparent from the Square Swordsmanship you invented. Specific sword paths? Rotation sequences? Stroke trajectories? You’re too fixated on these so-called frameworks."

"Swordsmanship isn’t like mass production on an assembly line; there aren’t any fixed steps. It requires not only thousands of practices and trials but more importantly, the inspiration that bursts forth in the dire moments of life-and-death struggles."

"The more you focus on refining swordsmanship rather than seeking innovation, the more you’ll be caught in the vast shackles of your own making. Continue like this, and you’ll never catch up with the former Sword Saint, sir. Meanwhile, the other Swordsmen who joined the group later are close to catching up with you, aren’t they?"

"Shut up!" This touched a raw nerve for Meyer. His face went pale and green, and only with great difficulty did he suppress the anger welling in his chest, lifting his longsword and sneering coldly:

"I hope your swords are as sharp as your tongue."

"Good," Aske set down his longsword.

In an instant, their figures clashed and then separated in the blink of an eye, with Meyer already turning around for another charge, his longsword whirling rapidly.

Square Swordsmanship!

The so-called Square Swordsmanship did not imply that the sword paths were square, but that the sword’s trajectory was made up of countless irregular ellipses tightly drawn within a square, hence the name.

The same swordsmanship in the hands of Meyer, its creator, was much faster than that of the male Swordsman defeated by Sigrdrifa. His longsword created an airtight defense, and the spectators outside the arena could only see a series of bright afterimages joining together, accompanied by the steady adjustment of Aske’s sword position and a series of dense clashing sounds.

The circles he swung grew smaller, and with them, Aske’s defensive range was rapidly compressed; suddenly, his two-handed thrust aimed at a spot Aske couldn’t defend against in time.

Then, to his shock, he found empty air where Aske had already leapt back, leaving his attack range before he even executed the thrust.