Chapter 1239
Martha’s blade descended in a diagonal arc, leaving a shimmering trail behind it like the fading glow of a shooting star.
"Mother! What do you think of that one?"
The moment she finished the movement, she turned toward Elena, who was standing to her right, her expression brimming with a daughter’s desire for approval.
"Hmm...."
Elena narrowed her eyes slightly, appearing to replay the mechanics of Martha’s strike within her mind’s eye.
"I believe it would serve you better to terminate the swing a bit sooner."
Opening her eyes, she gave Martha a small, encouraging nod.
"At the moment, you are letting the tip of the sword linger too long at the end of the motion, which creates a window for an opponent to strike back. If you shorten the follow-through, you can transition into your next combination much faster."
Elena gestured with a finger, offering her sincere thoughts on the flaws she had perceived in Martha's form.
"Ma-Martha. Is it truly wise for you to take my words to heart?"
She released a heavy breath, her shoulders sagging slightly.
"As you are well aware, I possess no knowledge regarding the way of the sword or the intricacies of combat."
Elena’s hands shook with a touch of anxiety, her worry for Martha’s progress evident in her gaze.
"I am simply voicing whatever random thoughts cross my mind...."
"Mother. Please, just wait a second."
Martha shifted her stance, raising her weapon once more to incorporate the adjustments Elena had suggested.
Whoooooosh!
Acting on the advice, Martha didn't allow the blade to sweep all the way toward the earth. Instead, she halted the momentum halfway. This allowed her to flow seamlessly into a thrusting position, launching a secondary strike with lethal efficiency.
"Has my technique always been capable of this?"
A stunned, breathless laugh escaped Martha as she stared at the spot where her perfect thrust had landed.
The fluidity of the transition was undeniable. She felt a sudden, piercing realization that her previous training had been fundamentally flawed, and that Elena’s intuition was flawlessly accurate.
"Mother!"
Martha spun around, her eyes wide with curiosity and wonder.
"How were you able to identify the weakness in my form?"
On the surface, Elena was a common woman with zero background in the martial arts. Even a legendary Grandmaster would struggle to pinpoint such specific openings after watching a single repetition. It defied logic that Elena could offer such refined guidance.
"Well...."
Elena rubbed her cheek awkwardly, looking as perplexed as her daughter.
"I can just see it. It isn't just the way you move the sword; I can sense that your internal aura would be more effective if it flowed in a different pattern."
She nodded to herself, confirming that the errors in both physical movement and energy circulation were plain to her.
"I honestly couldn't tell you why I know these things."
Elena pursed her lips, making it clear that this wasn't the result of study or past experience, but a raw, unexplainable instinct.
"It seems that insane woman left something behind after all."
Martha slammed her sword into the dirt of the training field, a sharp, cold grin spreading across her face.
"If by 'insane woman,' you mean..."
Elena blinked, her voice trailing off.
"The. High. Priestess. of. the. White. Blood. Religion."
Martha ground out the title of the White Blood Religion’s leader, emphasizing every syllable with hatred.
"It has to be because of that wretch who usurped your physical form."
Elena had remained conscious and unyielding even while her body was possessed by the Leader of the White Blood Religion for over a decade. She had endured the agonizing pressure of having her soul suppressed without breaking.
During those years, even though she couldn't control her limbs, she had witnessed the world through the perceptions of a Transcendent. By observing through the eyes of the Leader of the White Blood Religion, she had inadvertently gained the sensory depth required to dismantle complex martial techniques.
"Ah, so that's the reason!"
Elena let out a soft gasp of realization, the puzzle pieces finally clicking into place thanks to Martha's deduction.
"The way you spot the cracks in my style and immediately provide the solution..."
Martha rubbed her chin, her conviction growing.
"Mother, your understanding of martial theory is at the Transcendent level, if not higher!"
Martha herself was currently at the absolute zenith of the Grandmaster stage. While she still trailed slightly behind Runaan, she was on the verge of shattering the ceiling to reach Transcendence herself.
For Elena to dissect her movements so effortlessly meant her perspective was that of an apex predator. It was highly likely she resided in the upper echelons of that divine rank.
"Mother. Give me a moment."
Martha stepped closer, taking Elena by the wrist and channeling her own aura into her mother’s body.
'Every single one of her mana pathways is wide open.'
In fact, they were more pristine than Martha’s own.
Elena’s internal circuits were broad and unobstructed, resembling the grand boulevards of a capital city.
To possess pathways cleaner than a Peak Grandmaster’s meant her vessel was undeniably that of a Transcendent.
"Why... why are you doing this?"
Elena gasped as the sudden influx of Martha’s energy caused a wave of heat to roll through her.
"Mother! Don't you have any desire to learn the blade?"
Martha gripped both of Elena’s hands, shaking them with excitement.
"If you took up the sword now, you would reach the Transcendent stage faster than anyone in history!"
Elena’s physical constitution was already prepared; her circuits were primed, and her analytical mind was already at the finish line.
It wouldn't be an exaggeration to claim she was a Transcendent warrior the moment she picked up a weapon.
"Me... a warrior?"
Elena breathed out, the concept clearly never having crossed her mind.
"Yes! I am certain of it!"
Martha gave a firm, resolute nod, leaving no room for doubt.
"But wasn't I told I was ordinary when my body was checked before?"
Elena squinted, recalling the diagnosis given by the Ragged Saint during her recovery.
"You only recently reclaimed your body after two decades; you likely hadn't synchronized with it yet. Or perhaps you've only just integrated the residual power left by the Leader of the White Blood Religion. I can't say for sure."
Martha rubbed her palms together, noting that a more thorough investigation would be required.
"Hmm...."
Elena’s gaze drifted, a flicker of apprehension crossing her face. The mere mention of the Leader of the White Blood Religion still brought back shadows of discomfort.
"Then let us start with small steps. First, I want you to assist me with my drills."
Martha caught Elena’s trembling hand in a steady grip.
"Help you with your training?"
"Exactly! And perhaps through that, you'll find a spark of interest in the sword yourself."
She suggested that Elena act as a mentor first to ease her into the world of martial arts.
"Ugh...."
Faced with her daughter’s intense, hopeful eyes, Elena found she couldn't say no. She gave a slow, hesitant nod.
"Fine. But you must be cautious. Remember, I am only speaking from my gut feelings."
She sighed, warning Martha not to treat her every word as gospel.
"I understand! Thank you so much!"
Martha beamed, pulling Elena into a tight embrace.
"With the two of us working together, victory is inevitable."
She squeezed her fist shut, her thoughts drifting to the rival who had recently handed her a crushing loss.
"Just wait, Runaan. I'm coming for you!"
"Hmm...."
"Is it just me, or did the temperature just drop?"
"Yeah. I've got a chill running down my spine."
"It feels like we're standing in the middle of a slaughterhouse, not a school."
The warriors of the Light Wind Palace, currently practicing in the fifth training area, rubbed the sudden goosebumps on their arms. It was a biting cold that felt unnatural, even for the peak of winter.
"Hey."
Krein shuffled sideways, nudging Dorian in the ribs with his elbow.
"What's your take on this?"
He kept his eyes forward, pretending to train while surreptitiously watching Runaan, Martha, and Burren, who were positioned in separate sections of the yard.
"What do you mean?"
Dorian was already sweating despite the chill, clearly unnerved by Krein’s shifty behavior.
"The squad leaders! I mean, look at our Light Wind commanding officers!"
Krein slapped Dorian’s shoulder, his lip twitching.
"They're acting incredibly bizarre! They haven't said a single word to each other; they're just obsessively training!"
He watched Martha and Burren with wide eyes. Both seemed possessed by a singular focus, reminiscent of their most desperate days as mere trainees.
"Things have been tense ever since Lady Runaan and Lady Martha had their duel. I'm worried a massive brawl is going to break out."
Krein clutched his head in distress, realizing that with Raon absent, there would be no one capable of intervening if the three of them came to blows.
"Hmm...."
Dorian stroked his chin, considering the situation for a moment.
"I actually think they're fine."
To Krein's surprise, Dorian didn't look panicked. He gave a calm nod of assurance.
"Fine? Are you out of your mind?"
Krein lunged forward, grabbing Dorian by the collar.
"Neither of them is harboring malice or agitation. On the contrary, their spirits are quite settled."
Dorian offered a soft smile, his Mind's Eye allowing him to perceive the underlying emotional states of his comrades.
"It seems they've either had a profound realization or have found a reliable source of support."
He brushed Krein’s hands off, reiterating that Martha and Burren were actually in a state of internal harmony.
"Are you serious?"
Krein’s jaw hung open in disbelief.
"See for yourself. Look at the way they move. Martha and Burren are putting their entire souls into every swing."
Dorian pointed toward them, forcing Krein to focus on the quality of their movements.
"I suppose... when you put it that way, it does look different."
Krein scowled, still not entirely convinced but unable to deny the weight behind their strikes.
"However...."
Dorian turned his gaze toward the one person Krein hadn't mentioned, his expression darkening.
"Lady Runaan is another story entirely."
Dorian’s voice was far more somber now than when he had discussed the other two.
"Lady Runaan? She looks exactly the same as always, doesn't she?"
Krein tilted his head. Runaan was simply leaning against a tree, seemingly asleep, which was her most common state.
"I can't put my finger on it, but..."
Dorian began to shiver, his usual cowardly demeanor returning in full force.
"The aura coming off her is more ominous than I've ever felt."
To the casual observer, Burren and Martha looked like the unstable ones, while the sleeping Runaan appeared peaceful. But through the lens of the Mind's Eye, Dorian saw a swirling vortex of discord surrounding her.
There were flashes of joy and elation, but they were being swallowed by a massive, growing chaos. Just looking at her made his blood run cold.
"Lady Martha has incredible instincts."
Dorian gulped, realizing that Martha had been the first to sense this change in Runaan, which is why she had initiated the sparring match in the first place.
"So, what's the plan? What do we do?"
Krein’s eyes darted around frantically.
"If even Lady Martha couldn't handle her, there's nothing we can do."
Dorian bit his lip, feeling his own inadequacy.
"Only that person can deal with this now."
"Haah...."
Raon exhaled slowly, opening his eyes as he finished his breathing exercises. His pupils glowed with a fierce, crimson intensity, resembling the predatory gaze of a creature that had forgotten the meaning of mercy.
He had been deep in meditation in the center of the hall. He looked up at the soft glow of the ceiling lights before rising to his feet.
The simple act of standing caused a monumental pressure to erupt from him, like a great pillar of power being driven into the sky.
Kuguugugugugugu!
Without bothering to clean the grime from his clothes, Raon drew Heavenly Drive.
The blade, which had remained unblemished despite clashing with the strongest warriors on the continent, felt like an extension of his own will. He lashed out, carving deep, jagged marks into the floor of the training ground.
"I am prepared."
Raon bowed his head toward Glenn, who had been silently observing from the shadows. His voice boomed with the authority of a seasoned general on the front lines.
"Then let us begin."
Raon signaled the start of their daily duel, leveling the tip of Heavenly Drive directly at Glenn.
"A full month has passed since we first entered this training hall."
Glenn closed his eyes briefly as he walked toward Raon.
"The transformation you've undergone in such a short span is truly remarkable."
He let out a dry, incredulous laugh as he stared into the burning fighting spirit in Raon’s eyes.
"Anyone watching would assume you were preparing for a death match against the Heavenly Demon."
Glenn shook his head, seemingly baffled by the sheer intensity Raon was projecting.
"I must evolve. I must grow stronger if I am to be of any use to you, Grandfather."
Raon spoke with a heavy, solemn nod, making it clear that this goal had been his sole motivation for the past thirty days.
"Hmm!"
The raw sincerity in Raon’s voice reached Glenn, and a faint, proud smile touched the older man's lips.
"Today will not be like the previous sessions."
Raon crossed Heavenly Drive with the Wooden Ring Sword. A dark, crimson mist began to roll off him—a manifestation of pure combat intent, similar to the spectral warriors of Eden who fueled their power with bloodlust rather than standard aura.
The resonance of his energy shook the entire hall. It wasn't the refined power of the Sword Emperor Raon Zieghart; it felt more like the oppressive shadow of the Heavenly Demon at the height of his power.
"I am aware. Today, I shall not view you as my kin, but as a mortal foe."
Glenn felt a prickle of excitement on his skin and allowed his own smile to widen.
"Show me what you've learned."
