Transmigration To Magus World-Chapter 129: A Path of No Return

The blade, as if an extension of Aizen’s will, moved with the swiftness of the wind. Its strike was precise—swift as a flash and sure to draw blood.

When his blade swept through, it was as if the clouds parted to reveal the moon.

All the chaotic sounds of clashing blades culminated in a single, deafening explosion.

An arm fell heavily to the ground, followed swiftly by half a body collapsing beside it.

"Bang!"

Alex did not utter a single sound, even in death. His eyes remained wide open, frozen in disbelief and overwhelming terror.

It was a horrifying sight.

Blood gushed from Leo’s severed torso like a fountain, drenching the earth in crimson.

Everyone was stunned.

Aizen’s strike was simply too brilliant, too extraordinary.

If one were to describe a swordsman’s skill with poetic phrases such as "Intoxicated guests fill the hall of flowers, one blade chills fourteen states," then Aizen’s blade deserved no less praise: "A single strike, swift as lightning; who needs ten paces to kill?"

Even Nathan, who had just forced Ramond into revealing his position, wore a grim expression.

Aizen’s strike left him feeling deeply threatened once more.

What astonished him even more was how Aizen had detected Alex in the first place. Could it have been purely instinct?

Alex had been hiding within the formation, and as long as he didn’t attack, he shouldn’t have been discovered. Even Nathan, with his naturally sharp senses, had to rely on minute clues within the formation to anticipate and counter such dangers.

How had Aizen pinpointed Alex’s exact location?

In a single stroke, Aizen not only evaded Ramond’s ambush but also slew Alex on the spot.

Had he already seen through the formation? Was his earlier claim about not understanding it just a bluff?

Nathan suddenly found Aizen impossible to read.

But with the battle already underway, there was no turning back for anyone involved.

Escape Plans

Ramond and the hidden Esdeath were already contemplating escape.

The situation had spiraled completely out of their control.

The carefully laid formation that was supposed to confuse and ensnare Aizen had not only failed to deceive him but had also been partially discerned by Nathan, allowing him to react swiftly.

Was this the power of a People’s List-ranked expert?

Was the gap between them so vast that even their formation couldn’t bridge it?

"Swoosh!"

A pitch-black throwing knife shot through the air, cold and menacing.

Aizen’s blade flashed, deflecting the knife with a sharp clang that sent sparks flying.

A figure darted out of the courtyard, vanishing into the night.

Aizen smirked coldly, his foot sliding forward as his body launched into the air like a soaring crane, leaping over the wall in pursuit.

One Against Many

Meanwhile, Ramond let out a furious roar, his blade lashing out in a frenzied storm toward Nathan.

With every swing, Ramond exhaled forcefully, each breath making his strikes faster and more ferocious.

This was the signature technique of the Blood Blade Clan: One Breath for a Hundred Strikes.

The technique focused on a single breath held in the chest, with each exhalation powering another strike. At its peak, one could unleash a hundred consecutive strikes, culminating in an unstoppable final blow that could shatter even stone.

While Ramond hadn’t mastered the technique to its fullest extent, his strikes were relentless, momentarily suppressing Nathan’s heavy and ferocious mace.

Ramond’s face turned red, his chest heaving as he reached the end of his strength. With a nimble twist, he dashed to the base of the wall like a swallow darting through the air.

Like a gecko scaling a wall, he clawed his way upward, attempting to vault over the courtyard wall to escape.

"Trying to run?"

Nathan sneered, his voice booming as his sleeve flicked outward.

"Snap!"

With a crack like a whip, his sleeve snapped taut.

A series of hidden projectiles shot forth, slicing through the air so sharply that they seemed to leave marks in their wake.

This was the pinnacle of mastery in concealed weaponry—a technique called Clouds in the Sleeve, Thunder in the Sound.

The projectiles sliced through the air with a thunderous roar.

Instead of a single line of attack, they spread out in a fan-like formation, their angles unpredictable and deadly.

Forced to drop back to the ground, Ramond was left with no choice but to draw his blade once more to parry the incoming assault.

The Chase

Outside the courtyard, Aizen moved like an arrow loosed from its bow, his speed ghostly and untraceable. His light-footed movements were as effortless as a lark soaring through the skies—free, calm, and unhurried.

Yet, in the blink of an eye, he had leaped over the courtyard wall, only to find no trace of Esdeath.

He was now in the inner courtyard of the estate, surrounded by outer courtyards that formed a maze-like structure.

The complex design of the estate, with its interlinked courtyards and winding passages, made it easy for someone to disappear. Esdeath, being familiar with the layout, had undoubtedly used it to her advantage.

However, she couldn’t have gotten far in such a short time.

Aizen leaped again, soundless and agile, landing atop another wall.

From his elevated vantage point, his sharp eyes scanned the surroundings, his senses fully alert. Even the faintest rustle of the wind or sway of the grass couldn’t escape his notice.

It was this heightened awareness, honed to perfection, that had allowed him to locate Luo Rui within the formation earlier.

Having cultivated the Ice God Technique, Aizen possessed far greater mental acuity and spiritual strength than the average Sorcery artist. Though he had yet to fully develop a sixth sense, he could faintly perceive the presence of others by focusing his mind, enabling him to lock onto their aura.

Some powerful warriors at the Innate Stage possess spiritual strength so immense that they can perform a terrifying feat known as Soul Locking Across a Thousand Miles.

In this realm, as long as they capture even the faintest trace of an opponent’s aura, their heightened sixth sense allows them to perceive the target’s general location within a thousand-mile radius.

This ability is rare, even among those in the Innate Stage, and Aizen had only heard rumors of such techniques.

He was far from reaching such heights, but his own formidable spiritual strength still gave him a considerable advantage.

Eagle’s Perception

Standing high atop the courtyard wall, Aizen’s sharp eyes scanned his surroundings with the precision of a hawk.

His heightened senses soon picked up on a subtle, unnatural flow of air.

The disturbance was faint, but his elevated state of awareness allowed him to detect it—his skin prickled, and his nostrils caught the faint scent of fragrance.

It was a delicate, feminine scent. The kind that could only belong to Esdeath.

In a flash, Aizen moved. His figure descended from the wall like an eagle diving down to seize its prey.

Swift and ferocious, he lunged toward the large tree in the courtyard where Esdeath had concealed herself.

But Esdeath, the rabbit under the eagle’s talons, refused to surrender without a fight.

Before Aizen’s feet touched the ground, she darted out from behind the tree in a blur of motion.

A Desperate Counterattack

"Swish, swish, swish, swish!"

Four throwing knives shot out in rapid succession, forming a square formation aimed at Aizen’s vital points—his eyes, heart, and chest’s Heart Calming acupoint.

Still mid-air, Aizen seemed like a predator falling into the hunter’s trap. Without a solid footing, it appeared impossible to dodge the attack.

But he still had his blade.

As long as the blade was in his hand, his life was in his control.

With a single sweep, he unleashed his technique.

The motion was like an old farmer pushing a millstone—lacking defined direction or range, yet completely unpredictable.

In the blink of an eye, the blade created an impenetrable defense, shifting seamlessly between four angles.

This was another move from the Demonic Blade Style, known as Push Blade to Fight All Directions.

The technique was akin to a warhorse charging into battle against enemies from all sides, combining offense with a robust defensive structure.

"Clang, clang, clang, clang!"

The four knives were deflected simultaneously, their metallic clangs ringing out in unison.

A Blade Like Lightning

Aizen’s gaze turned icy and menacing as his blade shifted in his grip. With a seamless transition, he thrust forward, targeting Esdeath, who was still attempting to flee.

His thrust was swift as lightning, fast as the wind—deadly in an instant.

Despair and terror filled Esdeath’s eyes. Aizen’s strike was too precise, too relentless. Whether she tried to escape or not, the outcome was the same.

Escape or no escape—she was trapped on a path of no return.

Still mid-air, Aizen seemed like a predator falling into the hunter’s trap. Without a solid footing, it appeared impossible to dodge the attack.

But he still had his blade.

As long as the blade was in his hand, his life was in his control.

With a single sweep, he unleashed his technique.

The motion was like an old farmer pushing a millstone—lacking defined direction or range, yet completely unpredictable.

In the blink of an eye, the blade created an impenetrable defense, shifting seamlessly between four angles.

This was another move from the Demonic Blade Style, known as Push Blade to Fight All Directions.

The technique was akin to a warhorse charging into battle against enemies from all sides, combining offense with a robust defensive structure.

"Clang, clang, clang, clang!"

The four knives were deflected simultaneously, their metallic clangs ringing out in unison.

A Blade Like Lightning

Aizen’s gaze turned icy and menacing as his blade shifted in his grip. With a seamless transition, he thrust forward, targeting Esdeath, who was still attempting to flee.

His thrust was swift as lightning, fast as the wind—deadly in an instant.

Despair and terror filled Esdeath’s eyes. Aizen’s strike was too precise, too relentless. Whether she tried to escape or not, the outcome was the same.

Escape or no escape—she was trapped on a path of no return.