Side leap, spin, hands flash to the waist!
The instant the strange sound came, Aurora’s body instinctively reacted, trying to draw her pair of poisoned cruciform daggers.
But the result was that she didn’t even touch her weapons.
Having already assessed her strength, the Sword Saint had lost interest in her.
Aurora only felt a breeze pass before her, followed by an odd lightness at her shoulders.
She looked down. At the edge of her vision, she glimpsed two familiar arms flying away from her, arcing through the air and landing with wet “plops” in the muddy ground, fingers still twitching slightly.
After brief silence, pain and realization exploded simultaneously.
“AAAAHHH—! My… my hands!” A shrill scream echoed through the basement.
Aurora staggered backward. Having lost both arms, her body lost balance and she crashed heavily into the blood pool. She kept struggling but couldn’t even climb up without support.
One of the Sword Saint Puchi’s tentacles held an unsheathed sword, its tip unstained by a single drop of blood. It didn’t even look at the woman on the ground again, only casually slashed through the air once more, releasing the bound man from his restraints.
The sudden reversal left the man—who had just been steeped in death-defying hatred—somewhat dazed.
He stood blankly in place, looking at his newly freed limbs, then at the screaming enemy on the ground, finally gazing at the four-sword Puchi sheathing its blades as if it had only done something trivial.
For a moment, he didn’t know whether to first kowtow to this miraculous Puchi or rush forward to finish off Aurora on the ground.
The Sword Saint clearly didn’t care what he was thinking.
With a kick of its short legs, it shot out of the basement, chasing after the main cultist force it sensed.
Only after the Puchi’s figure disappeared did the man snap back to reality. Breathing heavily, his gaze fell on the woman struggling in the blood pool, then turned to her fallen cruciform daggers.
He picked up that pair of bloodied weapons and walked step by step toward the armless Aurora, whose face had gone pale from blood loss and terror, his face slowly breaking into a genuinely cheerful smile.
—
The envoy group paused on the forest path.
“Letting Fourteen go alone… is that really okay?” Inanna gazed in the direction where the Sword Saint had disappeared, worry evident in her brow.
Number Ten remained unmoved, even rather displeased: “That guy who can’t distinguish task priorities acted on his own. Our primary duty is protecting you—exterminating cults is completely irrelevant!”
Number Four in Inanna’s arms said nothing but twisted restlessly.
Inanna sensed its thoughts and released it: “Little Four, I’m worried about Fourteen. Can you help me check on it?”
“Yay… ahem, no.” Number Four instantly bounced up, then forced maturity, using a tentacle to pat Inanna’s shoulder in an old-fashioned manner. “Pink Puchi, don’t worry. Leave this small matter to this mushroom.”
Then it eagerly chased in the direction the Sword Saint Puchi had left, leaving behind a trail of cheerful “puchi” sounds.
Seeing this, Number Ten said no more, only moved closer to Inanna with mana ready to deploy.
—
By the time Number Four set off, the Sword Saint Puchi had already caught up to the cultist group.
Two black-robed believers at the rear of the formation sensed movement and spun around sharply. The poisoned short blades in their hands and the spells they were condensing hadn’t been released when their movements instantly froze. Their heads slowly slid off their necks and fell along with their bodies to the ground.
“Another Puchi!” Charon turned, intending to deal with the Sword Saint Puchi.
An armored arm blocked his path.
“My lord?” Charon was stunned.
“You’re no match. Command the team to scatter and retreat. I’ll handle it.”
“Scatter and retreat?” Charon couldn’t hide his shock, because this meant Lord Serar didn’t even have confidence of certain victory.
Against just one Puchi?
“Go quickly!” Serar growled, offering no further explanation.
He reverse-gripped the black greatsword on his back, broke away from the group, and blocked the Sword Saint Puchi’s pursuit path.
In the forest clearing, only the confronting man and mushroom soon remained.
Airaven felt really uncomfortable right now.
Through aura sensing, it wasn’t hard to detect that this guy was the strongest among these cultists—perfect for going all out.
Usually at times like this, he’d ask a question or two.
But Puchis couldn’t speak, and the opponent wasn’t on the mycelial network.
Uncomfortable.
Thus—no need for words, only to draw the sword.
One tentacle deftly gripped a sheath and drew a sword that constantly dripped with flowing water.
The tentacle shook—a nearly transparent water line cut through the air, shooting toward Serar!
Serar’s massive frame displayed agility that didn’t match it, dodging sharply to the side.
However, that water line—though seemingly gentle—was supremely sharp, and its speed exceeded expectations.
Accompanied by the light sound of metal being easily sliced, the thick left pauldron on Serar’s shoulder was actually cut off cleanly, the cross-section smooth as a mirror.
Terrifying attack.
Serar realized that this expensive armor on his body was probably meaningless before this Puchi except to slow him down, but there was no time now to remove the armor.
Serar focused all his attention. Yet the four-sword Puchi opposite… curled its body into a ball?
[Rolling Charge LV10]
[Sword Extremity]
The tentacles gripping swords flailed wildly. Where the Sword Saint Puchi rolled, even fallen leaves were cut into countless pieces.
However, Serar barely had any wounds. He dodged in time, only parrying two strikes at the edge before the Sword Saint Puchi shot straight past him.
The Sword Saint Puchi stopped in the distance.
Hard to turn while swinging swords…
The first attempt failed, but the Sword Saint felt no particular emotion—he had thought of many more combinations.
Airaven only hoped this guy wouldn’t die too quickly!
Serar’s black greatsword and the Sword Saint Puchi’s four swords clashed frequently—the crisp metallic rings were dense as a rainstorm!
Yet humiliation rose in Serar’s heart.
As they continued exchanging blows, he clearly felt the opponent was still holding back.
He, Serar the Blessed One, was being used as a living practice dummy by a Puchi!
But the chasm in strength lay cruelly before him.
When this Puchi used only one sword, he needed to go all out just to hold his ground.
And when the other three tentacles also gripped sword hilts, those inhuman bizarre sword paths completely disrupted his rhythm. If the opponent wasn’t in a hurry to take his life, he would have been torn to shreds long ago.
But he wasn’t without means of resistance—he was waiting…
Here it comes!
The Sword Saint Puchi’s body contracted, then shot forward like a spring. At the same time, the tentacle itself displayed amazing elasticity, transforming into a thrust barely visible to the naked eye, aiming straight for Serar’s chest!
This strike combined the explosive power of a jump with the bizarre trajectory of a tentacle thrust—fast, accurate, ruthless—sealing off most evasion angles.
But he never planned to evade!
Two longswords pierced his chest, the impact force destroying internal organs and forcing him to stagger backward continuously.
However, beneath Serar’s faceplate, ghostly blue flames ignited. Almost simultaneously, the same ghostly blue flames roared to life along the black greatsword’s blade.
Those flames had no heat but radiated a life-devouring chill.
Blessed One!
The Sword Saint instantly recognized what this was.
An immensely heavy horizontal slash swept toward the Sword Saint Puchi still mid-air and not yet landed!
But the Puchi still had two more swords.
Blades crossed. Using the rebound force, the Sword Saint Puchi released the two swords still embedded in Serar and escaped the sweep’s range.
But it wasn’t entirely fruitless.
One of the Sword Saint Puchi’s short legs still touched these flames—mycelium was visibly withering and burning…
However, before a smile could form beneath Serar’s faceplate, the Sword Saint Puchi sliced off that part of its mushroom body with one stroke.
Mycelium wriggled at the cut, gradually recovering at a visible speed.
Temporarily standing on one leg, Airaven grew increasingly satisfied with this Puchi body.
Besides being a bit short and the swords being slightly inconvenient to carry, it had almost all advantages.
If his human body had touched this blue fire, it would be quite troublesome.
Puchis were much more convenient—cut wherever touched, as it would grow back in minutes anyway.
Moreover, Puchi bodies were light—even if both legs were cut off, he could move freely using tentacles.
But this tormented Serar.
He had intended to kill the enemy by taking injury, but killed nothing.
Heavily wounded, he couldn’t even serve properly as a sandbag anymore.
Sure enough, the Sword Saint Puchi stopped holding back. Its sword tip tapped the ground repeatedly as it transformed into a spinning top and swept past Serar.
“Death is but return… next life…” This Blessed One’s head fell to the ground.
Not a bad sandbag—the feel was just a tiny bit inferior to Fifteen. Unable to speak, the Sword Saint Puchi silently gave its evaluation in its heart, then pursued the remaining cultists.
—
The Sword Saint Puchi and Number Four returned to the envoy group one after another.
The Sword Saint Puchi’s mushroom cap relaxed. Its four tentacles still mimicked sword technique trajectories, as if lingering in the afterglow of just swinging swords—it was already contemplating new moves.
Number Four was unhappy.
It threw itself into Inanna’s open arms, its mushroom cap drooping listlessly.
It had rushed the entire way but didn’t encounter a single enemy. The slow-running cultists had been cleaned up completely by Fourteen, and how could its short legs possibly catch those who ran fast?
Excited for nothing, ultimately bringing back only a belly full of grievances. Now it could only nestle in Inanna’s arms, its tentacles idly curling her hair strands here and there, sulking alone.
Beside the envoy group now stood over a dozen disheveled figures.
They were the survivors, each one mentally disoriented, clearly having suffered tremendous fright. However, aside from the leading man, none had external injuries.
They were tearfully grateful to Inanna: “Thank you, my lady. Thank you… Mushroom Tribe warrior…”
The rescued man first kowtowed to the Sword Saint Puchi, then turned to Inanna: “I am Eugene, a poison master. You and this Mushroom Tribe warrior snatched me from Death’s hands. If you don’t mind, I would give this body and remaining years entirely to you. Just give the word—even if burning thorns or frozen abyss lies ahead—I won’t hesitate!”
(End of Chapter)
