High Martial: I Grind Professions

"Rukawa?"

"What’s wrong? Tired of fighting?"

"Or... did you really skip lunch? You’re as weak as a child who hasn’t been weaned."

These words of "concern," spoken in standard Japanese and paired with a slightly mocking expression, seared into the hearts of Rukawa Gale and every spectator from Japan like a red-hot branding iron.

"BASTARD!!!"

"KILL HIM!!!!"

The live stream’s chat instantly exploded into a sea of red.

An enraged, humiliated roar completely consumed Rukawa Gale, obliterating his last shred of sanity.

"I want you dead! Secret Art: Raging Gale Slash!!!"

BOOM—!

Rukawa Gale’s eyes turned crimson. The cyan energy around him burned wildly as he instantly overdrafted all his power, even pushing beyond his limits.

The longsword in his hand erupted with an unprecedentedly blinding light, coalescing into a colossal blade of wind that seemed capable of tearing space itself. With world-ending momentum, he recklessly slashed at Li Wen’s head.

This was a do-or-die strike, its power far exceeding his usual level.

Faced with this frenzied, fatal blow, a sharp light flared in Li Wen’s eyes.

’Good! Perfect timing!’

[Absolute Focus]! Activate!

The terrifying boost from his level 8 comprehension instantly enveloped his entire body.

The power of the jade-like Primordial Spirit surged forth from his sea of consciousness, merging with his senses.

Under Li Wen’s enhanced perception, the colossal wind blade’s every detail—its energy flow, its core node, its weak points—was laid bare!

"Defensive Form: Reversion!"

Without the slightest hesitation, the long saber in his hand traced a simple arc that seemed to contain the fundamental principles of the universe.

The blade’s light flowed, not meeting the attack head-on, but slicing with absolute precision into a faint, ever-shifting node within the wind blade’s furious energy.

Like a master butcher carving an ox, he followed its natural grain, gently yet swiftly guiding it astray.

WHIR—!

The world-ending wind blade, like a punctured balloon, instantly lost control. Its violent energy dissipated with a muffled sound of collapse.

The core node that held it together had been gently tapped and shattered by Li Wen’s single strike.

The light faded. Rukawa Gale stood frozen before Li Wen, still in his forward-lunging posture, his eyes holding the last vestiges of his extreme frenzy and a hint of disbelief.

His longsword was a mere three inches from Li Wen’s forehead.

A bead of sweat trickled down Li Wen’s temple, but the corner of his mouth curled into the faintest of smiles.

"It seems you won’t get the chance."

Before his words had even faded.

SNAP!

With a faint, crisp sound, the standard-issue long saber in Li Wen’s hand—having endured such a high-intensity defensive battle and the terrifying pressure of dismantling that ultimate secret art—finally surpassed its limit. A fine crack split open from its tip.

Though the blade was broken, Rukawa Gale’s body suddenly went rigid. An extremely fine, faint, yet utterly fatal pale-white sword mark had silently appeared between his brows.

That sword mark was the killing blow, created the instant Li Wen dismantled the wind blade. He had guided a portion of its residual energy, infused it with a sliver of his own sword intent, and traced it back through the core weakness in his opponent’s power eruption.

This was the ultimate application of a defensive counter-attack, another manifestation of the Way of the Defensive Form. It was turning his opponent’s spear against him, making its power his own.

PFFT!

With a flash of light, Rukawa Gale’s virtual silhouette—along with the look of shock, fury, despair, and profound disbelief frozen on his face—instantly disintegrated into countless specks of light and vanished from the arena.

[Duel Won!]

[Points +5!]

The system notifications sounded. Below the stage, there was dead silence.

The spectators from Japan were like a crowd choked by an invisible hand.

The dense barrage of comments in the live stream chat seemed to have been instantly wiped clean.

All the clamor, curses, support, and taunts came to an abrupt halt the moment Rukawa Gale was slain by the light that bloomed from between his brows, dissipating into motes of light. A frozen, deathly silence descended.

The passionate cheers and slogans from a moment before were forcefully choked back. Countless people stood with their mouths agape, unable to make a sound, only the suffocated wheezing of air in their throats.

Unbelievable! They couldn’t understand.

In their last duel, although Rukawa Gale had been defeated, most of them believed it was because he had been careless.

But this time... his opponent hadn’t taken a single offensive step from beginning to end.

He had merely used that damned defensive saber style to receive all of Rukawa Gale’s frantic counter-attacks, and in the end... he even used a broken weapon to shatter his brow as if it were an afterthought, all while neutralizing his strongest strike?

"I’ll stand still and let you hit me..."

Those words coiled around the heart of every spectator from Japan like a cold, venomous snake.

It wasn’t arrogance. It was the cold, hard truth!

This was a more suffocating, more bone-deep humiliation and crushing defeat than his last victory, which had seemed like an underdog’s win.

Lord Gale had given his all, even erupting with power far beyond his limits, yet he couldn’t even break through his opponent’s defense, only to be casually slain by a counter-attack from the very brink?

How could this be called a battle? This was clearly their so-called genius from Japan performing a desperate one-man show for his opponent.

A colossal sense of shame washed over them like a tsunami, drowning all their pride and confidence.

On the live stream, countless avatars that had been brimming with fanaticism a moment ago instantly grayed out and went offline, as if desperate to escape this unbearable nightmare.

Those virtual silhouettes still at the scene stood dumbstruck, their faces pale as paper, their vacant eyes staring at the empty arena as if their souls had been ripped out.

Last time, there was still anger and indignation. This time, all that remained was boundless humiliation and bone-chilling despair.

Li Wen looked down at the silent, morale-shattered "Japan-region spectators" below the stage, his expression indifferent, without a single ripple of emotion.