Chapter 18: Without a Sword, What Are You Going to Fight Me With?

Ten fingers, ten puppets.

The person controlling them had their reach over almost every elite figure in the upper echelons. In this way, the entire Shallow Cherry Island had, without anyone noticing, been reduced to a tool for the "Carpenter" to reap his illicit gains, along with its most prized possession: the seven great martial arts halls and the swordsmanship tournament.

"So it was all you, a despicable villain hiding in the shadows!"

Junichi drew his blade, the memory of the years of bitter suffering he and his father had endured causing him to grit his teeth until tears nearly fell. "Absolutely... I will absolutely never forgive you!"

Just as he was about to charge toward the Carpenter, the sound of wind being split erupted behind his ears. In a heartbeat, the bamboo sword in Junichi’s hand was severed at the waist.

Junichi turned around, dazed. The one who had cut his bamboo sword was none other than his own father.

At this moment, Sakuraba Itsuki’s face was twisted in a ferocious grimace. His right hand clutched a pale pink longsword, held in a downward slashing posture, while his left hand gripped his own right wrist with all his might, struggling to restrain it.

Clearly, the target of that strike had not been the bamboo sword in Junichi’s hand.

It was his head.

"Run... run, go!" Sakuraba Itsuki squeezed out a painful scream from his throat. "Stay away from me, Junichi!"

"Father!" Junichi’s eyes widened, but before he could react, a powerful hand grabbed his arm and yanked him backward a dozen meters.

"Boss Shano, let go of me! I can't abandon... I have to save my father!"

"Don't say stupid things."

Shano threw him into a corner and said coldly:

"Staying by his side is just harming him! You've seen a puppet show, haven't you? There is only one way to end this play: kill the one pulling the strings behind the curtain!"

"Do you really think you can reach that guy with your ability and a broken bamboo sword?"

Junichi looked up, staring blankly at the Carpenter in the distance.

"What are you looking at, kid?"

The Carpenter sneered as he exhaled a cloud of smoke, then violently flicked his left hand and two fingers on his right hand toward the south.

"These old relics won't be of any use later anyway—turn them into puppets completely!"

*Swish! Swish!*

Invisible ripples shivered through the air as strings shot toward the first row of the spectator stands.

The seven hall masters suddenly began to rattle, rising in unison with stiff, jerky movements. Seven shimmering blades were drawn simultaneously. As they walked, their elbow and knee joints emitted dull, clacking sounds like wooden balls knocking against each other.

On their exposed skin, dense wood grain patterns constantly emerged, and their eyes rolled upward, revealing whites filled with dark yellow threads—a truly bizarre sight.

In an instant, the seven men formed a semicircle, shielding the Carpenter while sealing off every escape route around the ring.

"And you!"

The Carpenter laughed wildly, pointing his right index finger at Sakuraba Itsuki. Another dark yellow puppet string shot out.

"Weren't you so capable of resisting? Why not try resisting again? At this range, under my power, you have no room to struggle!"

"You beast..."

Veins bulged on Sakuraba Itsuki’s forehead as he used every ounce of his strength to resist. But it was ultimately futile. He could only watch in despair as circles of wood grain began to sprout across his own skin.

His left hand lost control and slowly went limp, while his right hand, still gripping the sword, turned bit by bit toward the direction of Shano and Junichi.

His once-clear consciousness began to grow hazy. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he seemed to have finally made a decision.

"Puppetification is irreversible. I don't want to become a monster without a soul..."

"Perhaps this is my best ending."

Sakuraba Itsuki smiled. "Goodbye, Junichi."

"Father..." Junichi’s eyes widened, as if suddenly realizing something. He scrambled up from the ground in terror, limbs flailing as he tried to rush the platform, but he was held down firmly by Shano. He could only wave his arms wildly, howling through tear-blurred eyes, "No... no! I beg you, don't! Father!!!"

*Clang!*

In an instant, the blade in Sakuraba Itsuki’s hand abruptly turned, plunging deep into his left chest before twisting once with violent force.

"..." Junichi’s movements froze.

Reflected in his pupils, that gaunt, skeletal body fell forward onto the ground with a smile squeezed out by his final shred of strength.

The world seemed to collapse at this very moment.

"Mr. Sakuraba!"

"Chairman!"

Cries of grief and indignation erupted from the stands, mixed with the sounds of sobbing.

...

Under the spotlight, the black-haired youth reappeared on the ring. He stared at the motionless face, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly, but in the end, he said nothing.

He turned his gaze to the audience.

"What are you all still staring at! Are you not afraid of death? Do you think this is still a tournament?!" Shano took a deep breath and roared with all his might, "Run!!!"

The audience was struck with sudden terror. Looking at the grim-faced Carpenter and those bizarre, horror-movie-come-to-life puppets, they finally realized what this scene truly meant.

"Run!"

"I—my legs are weak... save me, pull me up!"

"Ahhh! We’re going to die here!!!"

Panic and screams erupted, and people scrambled toward the front and back exits. The host crawled away through the staff corridor, not forgetting to grab the two trembling broadcast transponder snails from the wall before he fled.

Some unwilling swordsmen tried to turn back to help fight, but they were coldly intercepted by Major Tomte and the sheriff, who gunned them down into sieves with their flintlocks without a hint of mercy.

Amidst the spray of blood, the Carpenter shook off his cigarette ash with an air of satisfaction.

"I say," he looked at Shano on the stage, clicking his tongue in wonder, "Kid, I didn't expect you to care so much about the masses. You can barely protect yourself, yet you still have the mind to tell them to leave first. You almost make me want to recruit you."

"You seem to have misunderstood something."

Shano slowly raised his head. The Carpenter paused, startled; he was looking into a pair of bloodshot, wild, beast-like eyes.

"I told them to get lost only because I didn't want them blocking my path. They were getting in my way!"

"Stop talking big, kid!"

The Carpenter felt a chill in his heart under that gaze and forced a cold laugh. "You said it yourself, this isn't a tournament. Even if your swordsmanship is decent, what can you do with that broken bamboo sword?"

*Swish!*

Two hall masters stepped forward, their blades shining bright. The bamboo sword in Shano’s hand was easily chopped into several pieces. Immediately, two swords were held firmly against his neck and chest.

"If you want to blame someone, blame yourself for believing in this kendo tournament. As a swordsman, you didn't even bring your own blade."

The Carpenter finally felt at ease and laughed arrogantly. "Now tell me, kid! What is the difference between a swordsman without a sword and a lion with its claws cut off?"

"Talking to yourself, exactly..."

Shano looked at the bamboo handle left in his hand, then suddenly let it fall. He looked up and grinned. "Exactly... who told you I was a swordsman?!"

*BOOM!*

The moment the words left his lips, two massive hands shot out, pressing down on the heads of the two hall masters. He exerted force instantly.

*CRACK!*

The tops of their skulls emitted the crisp sound of walnuts splitting. Their heads deformed under the immense pressure, and their facial features twisted out of place.

Their skin cracked inch by inch, but no blood flowed from the fissures. Instead, dark yellow puppet strings surged out like horsehair worms, densely packed, attempting to entwine Shano's wrists.

But the moment they touched his skin, they were shattered to dust by his suddenly bulging arm muscles.

"Is that it?"

The power in Shano’s fingers grew greater, more terrifying, more violent!

*CRUNCH!* The hard frontal bones of the two hall masters could no longer withstand the force, and ten circular indentations were pressed into them.

The next moment, as if throwing a bowling ball, Shano exerted a burst of force and hurled them!

*BOOM!*

The two puppets flew like cannonballs into the spectator stands, smashing through countless rows of seats. When the dust settled, the two bodies were twisted at sharp angles, unable to move a muscle. The wood grain covering their bodies shone with a sickly, wax-like pallor under the spotlights.

"..."

The Carpenter stared blankly at the scene, his cigar falling from his mouth to the ground.

*Rrrrrip*—the sound of fabric tearing suddenly echoed behind him.

He jumped, turning around just in time to witness Shano wadding up his expensive kendo uniform and throwing it off the ring like trash.

Freed from the constraints of the clothing, his knotted muscles bulged, writhing and expanding as if they were breathing. The heavy, thumping sound of his heartbeat was clearly audible.

The figure on the ring, already formidable, seemed to expand yet again, looming over him like a small mountain.

"Y-you..."

The Carpenter swallowed instinctively, his legs trembling as he backed away, stumbling and nearly falling.

"Warm-up over."

The black-haired youth licked his dry lips and smiled. His cheeks trembled and spasmed as he spoke—not from muscle fatigue, but from the thrill of a predator about to feast.

"Now, it’s your turn."